


WRITING'S ON THE WALL

by orphan_account



Series: Silent Partner [1]
Category: EastEnders
Genre: M/M, Part 1, Set in the Silent Partner Universe - canon 2010 pre-reveal
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-09-22
Updated: 2011-09-22
Packaged: 2017-10-23 23:01:48
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,445
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/256050
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Anger, frustration, love</p>
            </blockquote>





	WRITING'S ON THE WALL

He hadn't expected it to be him knocking at his door. He'd been so furious... No, not _furious_ – hurt and despairing. How did you want something so much, have it come so close to being yours only to get kicked in the nuts over and over? How did Syed do that, though? He'd never let anyone else trample his heart the way Syed did, and at this point he wasn't sure he wouldn't _keep_ letting him.

Oh he liked to _think_ he'd tell him to take a running jump and _mean_ it – one of these days – but he knew he was lying to himself and that was one of the things Christian Clarke _never_ did – not anymore. Yeah, lie to other people but _never_ to yourself.

Wouldn't do Syed any harm to try that one sometime.

“Yeah?”

Making with the eyes again. Oh he was so good at using the eyes – to melt you, distract you. Christian wasn't sure he even knew he was doing it half the time. He'd found that with good-looking guys – they got so used to people giving them a pass because of their looks that they no longer even realised they were manipulating you – they just saw it as normal, their due. And although Syed wasn't anything like the wankers he'd dated in the past - for the most part - there were certain things he and they had in common. Syed _expected_ life to go his way – he expected people to cave to his will. Oh he wasn't arrogant in that way, but he had that quiet confidence that only came with being physically blessed. Christian knew all about that, both from personal experience and observation, all the while fully aware that knowing who and what Syed was provided absolutely no armour against a determined Syed assault.

And since he wasn't a fucking _idiot_ he knew that that look in his eye meant something, something that wasn't necessarily to _his_ advantage.

“Can I come in?”

He didn't move. “Why, what do you want?”

“Come on Christian, we need to talk.”

“Really?” He really had to break that habit – folding his arm was _so_ camp, so 'I'm in a strop and I'm not listening to anything you say!' screeching campiness. He unfolded his arms and rested them on his hips instead. God no, even more camp. What the hell! He folded his arms. “I thought we'd said all we were going to. Remember, when you told me that _Amira_ was the one you loved?”

He clocked the furtive look to one side. God sake! “Please, Christian!”

Please what, please let me in so that no-one can know that we're more than friends? So that your wife doesn't find out that she's moved you in next door to the guy whose cock you love sucking, the guy who makes you groan when he's sunk balls deep inside and moving exactly the way you like...? “What do you want, Syed?” He'd make him say it, make an honest man of him if it killed him. Oh the fucking irony of that!

The eyes again. Nope, that wasn't going to fucking work this time. “I need to talk to you.” Again that look to the side. What the fuck was he expecting? Some wanker with a camera phone? Oh well okay then, maybe he had a point, but fuck's sake he was so fucking tired of covering for him!

“I haven't got time for this.” He opened the door enough for him to get through, but stayed there, door slightly ajar. He saw him clock that and not like it. Too fucking bad! “I've got a prior engagement.” And left it at that, left him to work it out for himself. One thing he knew about Syed was that he had a really, really jealous streak. Even when they'd been in bed he'd been jealous, jealous of the fact that Christian had started young and was seriously experienced. He'd done something that Syed had really liked, but afterwards it had been 'Where d'ya learn that then?' not even _pretending_ to be light-hearted about it. Christian had been tempted to tell him to grow up, get used to it, but well, it wasn't important, was it, not enough to spoil things over. But he didn't do jealous, never had, never would. Good thing, what with bloody Syed in his life... He'd come the closest to going into a jealous rage over this guy – and well, face it, that was just the way his life was going these days. Walford - turned out to be not such a blessing as he'd hoped. Except...

Standing there, gazing at him, yeah this was the reason he wasn't leaving any time soon. “Anyone I know?”

“I thought you wanted to talk.”

He saw him contemplating whether or not to jump on his deliberate side-step, asking himself if this was another Christian ploy to make him jealous or something else, something genuine. Well _he'd_ never know....

“Can you close the door?”

“Syed, say what you have to say and go. Like I said...”

“Why are you being like this?”

Christian couldn't help himself. No, he should be used to this by now, used to the way this guy could turn everything on its head, make black swear it was white and always had been, but this? He took several steps forward until he was well inside Syed's personal space. “You what? You fucking what? Why am I being like this? Like what, exactly, like a man who's just been told by his lover that he's nothing; forced by his lover's fucking _wife_ to give her tips on how to please her man in bed? I don't know, Syed, you tell _me_ why I'm being like that!”

“Leave Amira out of this.”

This was the fucking limit! “Leave her out? Leave her out? How _can_ I fucking leave her out? The fucking woman seems determined to be my no.1 fag hag! Everywhere I fucking turn she's practically hanging off my coattails. Before you know it she'll be on her knees gobbling my cock!” Oh that was nasty, but if Syed wanted to play dirty he'd come to the right place!

Syed had tried to hit him before, but Syed was no fighter. Easily dodging the badly telegraphed punch he grinned at him, goading, Syed's attitude starting to seriously piss him off. Why had he come if it was going to be the same old, same old - Amira off limits, them only ever skimming the surface of their relationship? That was a laugh. _What_ fucking relationship? At this point they didn't even have a proper _friendship_. Friends didn't generally tend to deliberately set out to cause you pain, hit you when you were already on the fucking floor! And it wasn't like he didn't know Christian was on the ground, bleeding out, the wounds he'd inflicted not by themselves enough to _kill_ him, but cumulatively taking his life force, causing him pain. And yeah he'd shown that he was capable of kicking you when you were down, really sticking the boot in, often administering a final kick just for good measure.

Why the fuck did he love this man again?

“You fucking bastard! To think I came here to-” He broke off, eyes blazing, chest heaving, so close that Christian could smell the mint of his breath, the perfume of his skin. The skin on his face tasted different to the skin on his thigh, smelled different too. That's what he'd done – catalogued the different scents on this man's body: the hair on his head, the hair on his chest; the hair on his thighs, around his cock. Different flavours, different textures. Why, oh why when Syed was near, could he not stop himself recalling the way he made love: the sounds he made when he was being fucked; the way he'd lock his thighs around your head when he was being sucked; the way the hairs on the back of his upper thighs tickled when you were rimming him... How the fuck was he meant to hold on to his anger when all he could see was Syed, eyes closed, mouth open, helplessly groaning his name...?

“Syed, don't, let's not. Why? Why do we do this?”

“I didn't come here to fight, Christian!”

“Okay. I'm sorry.” And he was. Sorry for so very much, And knew that Syed knew it too.

“I don't know why Amira asked you those things. I know you didn't have to help her. And I'm sorry, so sorry.” The eyes again, but this time they were breaking his heart.

“Sy, it's okay.” A touch on his arm, meant to be comforting but he noticed the shiver go through the slender frame. “Sy...”

“Christian, I'm sorry. I shouldn't have said, shouldn't have done any of those things-”

“Shh.” A finger placed firmly against his lips. “Don't. It doesn't matter now. Just...” Just what? Tell me you love me? He already fucking knew he loved him. Loving him wasn't the problem. Even when he said it was Amira they both knew that was so many levels of bullshit. The point was he'd said and he'd say it again probably, biting when cornered like a wounded animal, wounding Christian because he knew he could, knew he was the one person he could do that to and not lose the love. Well maybe he was a fool, maybe he was a soft idiot, but that's what happened when you loved someone – didn't know how it was with anyone else. All he knew was that his love was more robust than that, couldn't be injured or even destroyed by anything as trivial as Syed's obfuscation; his standard operating procedure when under pressure. Because that wasn't the _real_ Syed. He _knew_ the real Syed, had held him in his arms while he shed bitter, pain-filled tears, not telling Christian why he was crying, but not hiding it, not protecting himself the way he did out in the world, letting Christian into his psyche the way he welcomed him into his body. Christian knew that despite the fact that Amira had it all – the certificate, the ring, the physical presence - she didn't have that – the gift of Syed himself – his heart, his vulnerability, him in the raw, armour laid down, mask off. Only _he_ had that, only he had ever had that...

“I- I- “ He was scared, Christian could see that in his eyes, the trembling of his limbs.

He pulled him into his arms and placed a firm kiss in his hair. He wanted to offer comfort, but the moment Syed relaxed in his arms, face buried in his neck he felt his body betray him. He couldn't believed it had come to this; that he would try to hide his desire from Syed. “Sy,” he whispered, getting ready to move him away, but Syed clung to him, hands gliding down his back, coming to rest just above his hips. He pressed himself against Christian, allowing Christian to feel his desire, breathed against his neck, feathered a kiss there, rubbed his sweetly-scented hair against Christian's cheek. Oh god, he wasn't playing fair. “Syed.” Was that meant to be a protest? Yeah it had started in his head as a protest so how had it ended up as a groan of encouragement, helpless desire?

“Yes,” he said and that was in no way a response to the calling of his name, but permission, plea, _demand_...

He didn't ask if he was sure, he was too far gone to be noble. Reaching back he took Syed's hands, brought them in front and looking steadily into his eyes brought the left one down, biting his lip when Syed made a hissing sound and closed his eyes, fingers grasping, cupping in that familiar way. “Yes,” he said and that was _more_ than permission, more than plea, more than demand. It was a sigh of relief, satisfaction, the feeling of coming home at last. Undoing Christian's belt with one hand, looking into his eyes, slowly running his tongue across his lips...

“Bastard,” he said faintly, aware that he was shivering, forcing himself to stand still, forcing himself not to devour Syed's mouth. Syed liked to do it this way, liked the building of desire, liked to see how far he could go before he broke. Syed liked to break, liked to get himself to a state of complete animal-like meltdown. 

Christian liked it too.

“You're pushing it,” he lied, watching his tongue.

“Shut up.” Fingers scratching the hairs on his lower torso, teasing them both. “Don't say a fucking word.” His voice was already hoarse, breath fast, almost panting. Already? Well yeah, he was there too. Never took long for either of them. “Do as you're told.”

Syed liked to be fucked, liked to be set on his face, arse in the air and fucked – slow and hard his preference. But he also liked to be in charge in bed, especially verbally. Christian liked the contrast, happy to allow him to get himself worked up until he practically sat _himself_ on Christian's cock, riding it like a demented cowboy, Christian just lying back and letting him go...

Clearly it was going to be one of those days.

Syed was looking down at his crotch, mouth slightly open, the long dark lashes obscuring his expression, the greed in his eyes, but Christian didn't need to _see_ to know. Syed always looked at his cock that way; like birthday and Christmas present in one huge package, all wrapped up, just for him.

“Take it out,” he encouraged, voice soft the way it always was when they made love.

Syed raised his gaze briefly. “You.”

Christian reached in and took hold of his cock, grasping it firmly by the base, thumb rubbing the shaft the way he knew Syed liked him to do with _his_ cock. He wasn't sure what was getting him hotter, that or watching Syed's face.

“Now me.”

Holding his gaze he reached for Syed's belt, undoing it one-handed, before pulling his shirt out the way, exposing the flat belly. Closer, closer, looking deep into his eyes, he rubbed the head of his cock against Syed's lower belly, drawing a hiss from both of them. Syed twitched, legs seeming to disobey him for a minute before recomposing himself. “Do it!”

He did it, reaching into his boxers and pulling him out, the hard warmth in his hand literally making his mouth water. Rubbing his thumb across the head, he stared into Syed's eyes. Did he want him to-? “Suck it!” God yeah! But not like this: he wanted Syed on top.

“Come on, let's go into the bedroom...”

 

 

 

**

Syed was naked, teasing him, rubbing the head of his cock across Christian's lips. Christian knew he was pushing himself, desperate for it, but forcing himself to hold back. He'd go where Syed led - that's how they both liked it- just wasn't sure he could hold out that long... He was _desperate_ for him, desperate to taste him. And Syed knew it of course, that was part of the tease – for both of them.

He ignored the cock and went instead for the soft inner skin of his thigh, licking a long stripe up first the right and then the left. Yeah that would do it. Syed adjusted his position, moving higher up his body, not _quite_ straddling his shoulders, still wanting to be pushed to the limit. Okay he could that...

Both hands now on his backside, massaging his cheeks, holding them apart, looking into his eyes and licking his lips. Yeah that would get them there. Syed loved arse play and he knew too just how much Christian liked going there. Just the promise of that was usually enough to get him spiralling out of control.

Straddling his face now, hand guiding his engorged cock into Christian's willing mouth. Hands hard on Syed's arse, forcing him to go deeper as he too adjusted his position, on his back, chin upraised, the better to get it all in, take him deep.

Syed was always so careful with him, watching his face instead of sinking into his own pleasure the way Christian wanted him to, but he liked this too, seeing in his face the pleasure hit, the way, when he got it just right, Syed's eyelids would close and lips part, allowing the groan to hiss between them, hips thrusting helplessly – just for a moment.

And there was a part of him that wanted to remind him what he was missing, what he'd decided to deprive himself of. He knew damn well that Amira couldn't do this, that Syed would die before even asking her, would actually be repulsed if she made any moves in that direction. People never seemed to get it: they thought that any mouth would do, that even if was a woman it would be okay. Had to get hard first, had to think yourself away from the woman scent, the feel of her hands, the look of her...bits. Sex was such a cerebral thing: the slightest thing could get you out of the mood, just as the slightest thing – look, scent, word – could get you hard in seconds...

He knew Syed preferred 69, but he preferred this – all of him, deep in his throat, taking his time, driving him slowly out of his mind. 69 was nice when you wanted it quick, wanted it to be over, but this was the cream, even more so than fucking him: hands wandering over his arse, backs of his thighs, across his belly and chest, persuading him to thrust, gauging as he began to lose control, as he forgot himself at last and used Christian's mouth the way he wanted him to. But no, Syed wanted something else _more_ , because a moment later he was pulling out, moving away, going down, down, licking all the way. Christian wanted to protest because he knew he wasn't going to get to taste him today and he'd been gearing himself up for that, but Syed sucking him was his idea of heaven so he let him do what he wanted, gritting his teeth when Syed simply wrapped his lips around him and went for it, not bothering with finesse, seemingly wanting nothing more than to devour him.

“Yes, Syed, yes.” He wanted to say more: how much he loved him, how fucking beautiful he was, but he couldn't really find the wherewithal to make that happen – his brain was dribbling out between his legs, Syed's mouth short-circuiting his thought processes. It didn't matter _how_ he did it, when Syed sucked his cock it felt better than any time ever, because Syed loved his cock, loved _him_ and this is how he showed it. He could spend fucking hours down there, worshipping him, adoring him. He'd known Syed loved him long before he'd said it, all he'd had to do was tie that love to the way he loved his cock. And it wasn't always about sex. He could tell when it was sex and when it was all about loving him... like today. Clearly Syed missed the sex, but he missed _him_ more, that was clear, and without words Syed was telling him all he needed to know. Sometimes that's all he felt able to do – show him without telling him, because words were dangerous, words weren't always true. This was something they both knew. But in bed Syed couldn't lie, would never lie, wouldn't ever even _think_ of lying. Bed for Syed was sacred, the place where he could be true to himself - and to Christian. Christian felt that he'd probably subconsciously vowed to himself that he would never lie to Christian in bed, made this the one place where he would never hurt or betray him. And that mattered. Syed knew exactly how much it mattered so intimacy for them was like a love song, a vow, a promise, something that would forever be inviolate.

“Fuck me, “ he demanded, meeting his eyes. Syed kept his gaze on him, sucking hard, long fingers cupping his balls just the way he liked. He'd probably been expecting Christian to fuck him, probably needed it. Christian felt that he needed this _more_ –  to remember what it felt like to be inside someone you wanted, to hear the man you loved groaning as a result of the pressure of your cock inside him, babbling your name and...other foolishness... in the heat of the moment. And again he wanted to remind him of what he was throwing away, because he could fuck Amira till the cows came home, but it would never, never feel like this and perhaps he needed that to sink in in the most concrete way possible.

“Come on,” he said softly, hand in his hair. “Come up here.” They both loved kissing after blow jobs, the taste of each other mingling together until they didn't know who they were tasting - themselves or the other. But kissing led to _wildness_ , which is probably why they had taken so long to get there. He liked kissing but knew that there were a lot of men, both gay and straight, who saw it as something you did only when you were initially trying to get there, not something in and of itself a pleasurable activity.

It was never like that for him and Syed. He didn't think there'd ever come a time when kissing Syed wouldn't make his belly flip, because it just tasted and felt so fucking _good_. It wasn't simply because he fancied the fuck out of him – he'd fancied loads of guys whose kisses had been less than fabulous – still fancied them, but the kisses were still not great. It just wasn't like that with Syed. Since the first time he'd breached the short distance between them and set his mouth to Christian's the kisses had only got better and better. Syed put his heart and soul into his kiss, not holding anything back, sensuality personified, thrusting, probing tongue, drawing Christian's tongue suggestively into his own mouth, sucking on it... god it was making him hard just thinking about it and for all that he wanted his cock seen to he wanted Syed's mouth more.

Syed's movements were slow and lethargic, crawling up his body, painting wet kisses all the way, until he reached his chin which he licked, dragging his tongue down to the hollow of Christian's throat. “You, only you,” he whispered, weight resting on both arms as he stared down into Christian's face. Then before Christian could respond he was feathering kisses all over his face - from brow to chin, to ear, to nose, to each corner of his mouth. When their mouths met he groaned, pressing hard against the length of Christian's body, tongue thrusting deep into his throat, the shivers going through him threatening to shake him apart. Christian wanted to say 'it's okay,' hold him, calm him, but no, this was how it was when they were together and he did need this – they both did - the passion of their kisses the _crux_ of their lovemaking, the fucking, at times, merely the icing on the cake. It had never, _ever_ been that way with _anyone_ else. Just Syed. Only Syed.

Hands kneading the firm buttocks Christian opened his legs and allowed Syed to shift until their cocks were aligned. God that felt good, but he wanted him inside. He generally took care of this side of things, but this time he wanted Syed to do it all, to do it so that he'd know, _know_ who he was fucking, who was making and keeping his cock so hard he could barely contain himself. “In the drawer, baby,” watching him try to refocus, fight to not thrust against him, seek that delicious friction they both needed. God he missed this. Since Syed there had been no-one, no-one who counted. When sex was just sex it really didn't make or leave a mark, became like taking a piss or stuffing a burger in your gob. He fucking _needed_ this, more than he'd needed sex ever in his life, because it wasn't _sex_ , it was sex with Syed...

“On your back.” It wasn't so much a command as a request. They both liked it from behind, but there were times when you just needed face-to-face.

“Let me?”

“No, let me.” A long, lingering kiss, then moving down again, using his hands this time, fingers running down Christian's chest, nails scratching the sensitised skin on his lower belly. Syed loved it when Christian took his time, loved the fingers fucking him, making him want more, making him _beg_ for more... And clearly he'd learned from Christian: he too taking his time, the long fingers teasing his opening with feather-light strokes before pushing inside.

“God, yes, yes, yes!” He grabbed Syed's slender shoulder. His overall slenderness belied the strength in his hips, a fact of which Christian would be happy to be reminded. But the fingers felt sooo good... “Come on,” he encouraged, making it clear by his firm hand what he meant: Fuck me, stop messing.

Syed's cock was practically purple, bobbing between his legs as he sat back on his haunches and took hold of Christian's calves. “Shift down a bit – to the edge of the bed,” he suggested, eyes shifting between Christian's eyes and his groin. Christian fucking loved that look he got when he was fucking – such greed, such determination to get as much of Christian as he could... there was nothing like it, nothing in the _world_ like sex with Syed.

“This do you?” He'd grabbed his cock and balls, lifting so that his arse was open to him, for him to do anything he pleased.

Syed's adam apple bobbed as he swallowed hard, gaze fixed on Christian's groin. A possessive hand rubbed the entire area before moving away and coming back with a ringing slap that was so loud he was sure had Amira been next door she would have had no problem hearing it. Of course she had no way of recognising the difference in a slap meant in anger and a sex slap. Pretty sure Syed never played with _her_ that way...

Taking the weight of Christian's legs on his shoulders – thank god he was limber! - Syed got into position, smiling as he thrust a little to make his cock dance.

“Do that once you're inside, soldier,” he teased. Syed claimed not to like the campiness but it was a different matter when they were having sex. Laughing was a big part of what made the sex work for them. They had it all; the passion, the technical brilliance, but also the humour. How many of those things did he get with Amira?

“Oh? Like this you mean?” Tiny, tiny thrusts, but each one getting further and further. He knew he could slide in easily, but he liked to take his time, tease. Syed was a real tease as it turned out, sly that way, a lot of people not really getting what he was actually like, just seeing the surface of him...

Christian didn't reply, just licked his lips and closed his eyes, the hand on his cock hopefully doing his talking for him. He was ready, more than ready to get fucked and hoped that Syed would take that hint – now rather than later.

Ohhh yesss! The long, determined slide inside made him open his eyes, the groan pulled out of him almost against his will. He didn't often get fucked, but he _liked_ it. The trouble was that the guys he went with liked it too and once he fucked them they kept wanting him to. But Syed had learned to fuck from somewhere and he was fucking good at it – _so_ fucking good. He just seemed to really prefer _getting_ fucked – by Christian at least. He didn't know, and Syed wasn't saying, but he had a sense that it was a part of that thing they had, where Syed gave him the real man; that he was sort of saying that _you_ get the parts of me _no-one_ else does and that this was a part of the truth they had between them, the parts that remained inviolate...

Whatever it was he was simply grateful for whatever Syed chose to give – or take.

 

*

 

Syed fucking was a sight to behold, eyes open and fierce; teeth exposed a little as he bit his lip; chest heaving, glowing a little with perspiration; hair in his eyes, hair in _complete_ disarray.

God he could fuck! Damn why didn't they do this more often? How was he fucking _doing_ that, hitting his prostate with every stroke? This had never been his favourite position, but he was loving the power of Syed's thrusts, the look in his eye, the ..fierceness... of his expression. Syed looked like he was claiming him, stamping his ownership on him and why not, he was master, Christian his willing possession.

And then Syed did something he had never done before. He began to speak to Christian – in Urdu – staring into his eyes, saying the words as he thrust, not breaking stride for a minute, but the words, in contrast to his thrusts, soft and tender. Christian _knew_ this, just knew it, knew indeed what he was being told and it was this that finally broke him, because he knew that for Syed this was the only way he could say it, the only way he could ensure that for all that Christian couldn't understand the words themselves he'd have no trouble understanding their import.

“I know, baby, I know.” He wanted to sob, both with the pleasure caused by Syed's thrusts and the honour bestowed by his words. It was more than 'I love you', he knew that instinctively, knew that it was far, far more than that. He might not ever ask him what they meant – he actually didn't _need_ to know the literal meaning – but knew that there was no going back from here: Syed had committed to him and they both knew it.

“Love you, baby.” he said and leaned up as Syed leaned down, taking his man's tongue into his mouth as willingly as he had taken his cock into his body. “Love you.”

Syed didn't say it back, but lay on him now, still thrusting, but skin to skin so that he could kiss him while they fucked, the fucking changing into lovemaking as the air between them, charged as it had been, changed into something else.

Christian had cried before when they'd made love. He wasn't ashamed of that, but this was different again; this time the tears were  _more_ than relief mingled with pleasure. He had never been this much in love in his entire fucking life, this man the perfect 'One' he believed every person on earth sought. And for the first time ever Syed had told him the same thing, told him that he was enough, enough to make the fight worth taking on. Didn't matter what came next and, still not an idiot, he knew that it wasn't going to be plain sailing, not with the entire fucking world ranged against them, but those mysterious words had been like an arrow straight to his heart, giving him more than hope, letting him know that no, he _wasn't_ an idiot, this man was his and he just had to be strong enough to find the stomach for the ugly fight he knew damn well was coming.

“Come for me, baby. Come in me, come on me, come all _over_ me,” kissing him, hands roaming all over him and with a cry Syed did just that, letting it all go, eyes squeezed shut, moaning as Christian kissed his open mouth.

“Christian,” he groaned, half in protest.

“What?” kissing his neck and shoulders, pushing the hair from his face. “You came didn't you?”

A gasping laugh. “Yeah, but-” He surprised Christian with a sharp nip at his ear. “You didn't.”

“Didn't I?” He smiled into his face. “Felt like it. Felt like the biggest come I've ever had,” and he could see by Syed's eyes that he knew exactly what he was talking about.

Syed didn't reply in words, but kissed him softly on the mouth – a promise, a vow. “You clean up since I did all the work.”

“Yeah, but,” wrapped both arms around him, kissed the tip of his nose, “No rush, is there?”

Syed rolled his eyes, but snuggled into him, agreeing, “No, no rush.”

 


End file.
